Prince of Air and Darkness (The Darkest Court)

He kissed me and I thought I’d known what it meant to burn before, but the pressure of his lips against mine, his taste... I wanted to fall apart like the shield we forged with the ley line, nothing but burning dust and dying light.

“Holy fucking shit,” I mumble. My lips still tingle.

By the time I stumble to my feet, Roark’s well out of earshot, reduced to a dark shadow skulking across the partially lit walkways. He’s not headed in the direction of the apartment.

Maybe that’s a good thing. I’m not really sure. I’m comfortably numb from sensory overload by the time I reach home.

Herman’s up on his laptop when I unlock the door. “Finny, they just sent out an alert that people should stay inside—” His eyes widen when I drop my shredded suit jacket on the ground inside and start stripping on my way to the shower. “What the hell happened?”

“Someone attacked the Summer’s End Ball.”

“With what? Knives?”

“Vines, actually. With really big thorns.” I wince when my dress shirt unpeels from the slice across my ribs.

“Isn’t that a Seelie trick?”

“Apparently.” I twist, checking the depth of the cut. Not as bad as I expected.

He throws a worried look toward Roark’s room. The door’s closed, confirming his absence from our apartment. “Is he...?”

He trails off and looks back at me. Whatever he sees makes him shake his head. “Of course he is. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

He sets aside his computer and rises to follow me. I can hear him outside the closed door as I shuck my remaining clothes and step into the shower. Once I give him the all clear, he comes in and continues the conversation as if I’m not washing blood down our drain. Again.

“I can’t believe they were stupid enough to break the neutrality again.”

“While Roark was in attendance, I know. Towel?”

He goes momentarily silent before tossing it over the edge of the curtain railing. “Queen Mab is going to be pissed.”

“I don’t think he’s telling her yet. He was headed for the dorms by the time I got out of the garden.”

“I thought you said he got injured, too.”

“Yeah. Sliced up like me.”

“How’d you both get hurt?”

“He was protecting the Unseelie who were there and I tried to help.”

Herman chuckles, as if the image is too ludicrous to contemplate.

“Shut up,” I order, lathering up my soap and hissing when it comes in contact with the cut. “We actually did a pretty good job of it.”

“We?”

“He was...him. And I used the ley line.”

Silence. Then a cautious “You did? How do you feel? You didn’t blow anyone up?”

“I feel...” Incredible. Alive. Powerful. “...fine. And yeah, everyone’s still alive.”

“How is that possible? Your first year here, you used the ley line and took out the library. And then next year when you ran into the manticore—”

I let him babble on, listing all my fuckups, while I finish washing. I dry off quickly, wrap the towel around my waist, and slide open the curtain. Herman’s still going when I examine my newest injury in the mirror. It hurts like a bitch, but at least it won’t need stitches. Another scar to add to my already impressive tapestry.

“—so how is it that tonight you managed to avoid doing any of that?” Herman finishes.